


Penance

by mediocre-writing (elleavantemm)



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Post S2, inclusion of personal head canon, meta-fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elleavantemm/pseuds/mediocre-writing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post season 2 finale. Something of a character study on how Allison handles the impact of her actions during season 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Penance

She isn’t surprised when people stop talking to her. What could they possibly have to say to her? What possible explanation could she offer that would make things better? It’s almost a relief, to be left alone with her thoughts, the vivid memories that play on repeat every time she closes her eyes: the faces of people she’d once considered friends, twisted in terror as she chased them down, caused them pain, and enjoyed it while she did so. 

She wakes up in the middle of the night, shirt sticky with sweat, and face damp with tears. She can still see Scott standing over her, face contorted with anger as he yells at her: the truth; all the things she needs to hear that everyone refuses to say. “God, you’re so weak! Why couldn’t you be stronger? Why didn’t you see what he was doing to you?” The wall beside her closet doors where Dream Scott forced his fist through is still intact. Nights like these she wishes that it was the way things had happened. She would have preferred Scott’s anger rather than his quiet understanding. He had treated her like a startled animal; gentle touches and softly spoken words. He’d said, “It’s okay; it’s not your fault; I forgive you.” Nothing was okay, it was Allison’s fault, and of all the things she wanted from Scott, it wasn’t his forgiveness. She’d done nothing to deserve it.

It bothers her how quick everyone is to shift the blame to Gerard. “It’s not your fault,” her father had told her. Allison’s posture had straightened, fingers forming a fist so tight her nails bit into the soft skin of her palm. 

“Don’t say that,” she replies sharply, rising from her seat. “I am every bit as at fault here. Don’t tell me that I’m not.”

“Allison…” he says with a heavy sigh. “He took advantage of you. He played you right into his hand.”

“Shut up!” She’s screaming and it feels good. “Shut up! Stop trying to placate me. Stop treating me like a child. You saw me. You saw what I was, the things that I did. How can you pretend that I didn’t know what I was doing?” When he takes a step forward, arm outstretched, her arm rises in a swing so suddenly that it surprises them both when it connects hard with his jaw. 

Maybe Gerard had done those things – taken advantage of her grief, manipulated her into doing what he wanted – but Allison was far from blameless, and she didn’t understand why no one else realised that. The real truth was that it had been building in Allison before Gerard saw his moment. The version of herself she saw that night at Lydia’s party was everything Allison wanted but was too afraid to be: calm, confident, and controlled. The Other Allison – darker and focused – was right when she chastised her for being weak, for always calling for help. Wasn’t she capable of defending herself? Hadn’t she spoken those same words to Scott only a week or so prior? And still, at every sign of trouble, Allison would call for Scott, for her father, for someone to sweep in and save her in the nick of time. She remembers admitting to Kate, the night after they’d been trapped in the school how weak she’d felt, and how much she hated it.

Kate’s death had been a stepping stone into the darkness. Even though her aunt’s over focus is what eventually led to her death, the loss of such a prominent female authority figure – someone who recognized Allison’s talents, her potential, and encouraged it – was definitely a step towards the darkness. Her mother’s death amongst so much chaos had tipped her over. Werewolves had made her life crazy and chaotic from the very beginning. Werewolves had made it all but impossible for she and Scott to be together; had stolen Lydia, beautiful and brilliant, away, locked in her own head; had taken Jackson, though smug and often infuriating, and turned him into a senseless murdering monster; and then they had stolen her mother from her. Taking her role as leader in the family seemed only natural. The smiling, bubbly teenager that Allison once was no longer existed. In her place came a new woman, tough as nails and could cut like glass.

Gerard had seen his moment and taken it, but when it came down to it, he wasn’t there while Allison chased Erica and Boyd through the woods like wild animals; or as she fired arrow after arrow after arrow into Boyd’s chest – Boyd who had done nothing to her, nothing at all except choose to take the bite and the life of the wolf, with all that it entailed – while Erica lay prone on the ground, begging for mercy. Gerard wasn’t there while Allison deliberately ignored her father’s distressed orders to stop.

It’s the intoxicating rush of power that causes the heaviest feelings of guilt, once everything comes to the fore. 

Gerard is on the run, and things aren’t settling back into the regular minutia of life. There are still two months of school left, and rumours of new, stronger, more dangerous werewolves. It’s hard to see Scott at school. Allison still loves him, isn’t sure she’ll ever stop. She hates knowing that he’s waiting for her. He says he’s forgiven her, but Allison doesn’t think she’ll ever forgive herself enough for them to be together again; she deserves so much better. Every time they are in the same room, she’s forced to remember the things that she’s done – the people she’s hurt. It doesn’t help that where Scott goes, Isaac goes, too. When Isaac looks at Allison there’s still veiled terror there. 

It’s not only hard to see Scott, but to see the other: Stiles, Lydia, and Jackson. It’s exhausting, constantly keeping her head down, avoiding their eyes. She doesn’t want to have any wordless conversations that might be full of accusations she deserves, or forgiveness she doesn’t deserve. She stops speaking in class unless specifically called upon. Everywhere there are the no-so-hushed gossipy whispers, the same words used to describe her that they’d used to talk about Kate: psychotic; unhinged; disturbed. 

After a month, Allison disappears from school. She spends a week at home buried beneath the blankets, or sunk beneath tepid bathwater. She makes a decision after five days of self-pity and isolation. Naked and damp she sits in front of the bathroom mirror, scissors in hand. The skin of her face is waxy and pale, dark circles under her eyes. The metal of the scissors bite into her fingers. The first cut is the hardest, but as the first thick wet clump of long dark tresses fall to the floor, it’s easy to make another cut and then another. When she’s finished it’s jagged and uneven, but she doesn’t care. It looks the way she feels. Her face looks different in the mirror, more angular, sharper. It reminds her of her mother who was all sharp cut angles.

People stare. Of course they do. They stared before. 

She feels more confident, more capable of dealing with the by-product of her actions; but she still refrains from speaking to the others, of so boldly catching their eyes, as though she has any right. Instead of running once or twice a week, the way she used to, Allison starts running every day. She runs until it hurts to breathe, until the pain from lack of oxygen brings the prickle of tears to her eyes, and then keeps on running. She runs until her legs give out beneath her. She pointedly avoids the forest or anything within the vicinity of the Hale house. She avoids Scott’s house and the others. 

She thought that by hunting her friends, by avenging her mother’s death, that she was being strong, that she was overcoming her feelings of weakness. It’s painful to accept the realisation that she was just as weak under Gerard’s tutelage as she was that night locked in the school cafeteria. She was playing at being the warrior when behind the shield her knees were knocking painfully together.

And so she buries her old life. She removes herself from her previous acquaintances. She cuts off her hair. She abuses her body. This is her penance. This is where her strength is born.


End file.
